What Are You Doing Here?
by ijustwanttobeabritishman
Summary: Without warning, The Doctor strode over to the corpse, leaned down, and yanked the knife out of the dead man's chest. The "dead man" sat up instantly, coughing and spluttering, gasping for breath.
1. Chapter 1

"Ooh, nasty one, that," John remarked, staring down at the body lying on the floor. The man, who couldn't be over thirty or so, had a long dagger protruding from his chest. Red coated his clothes, and his hair was crusted in dried blood.

"Simple, really," Sherlock said, glancing over the body a few times before leaving the room, John shutting the door after him, probably wondering what it was Sherlock had seen to deem a dead man "simple".

_INCOMING MESSAGE: Doctor_

_You need my help._

Sherlock glanced down at his phone, frowning. Why would The Doctor assume…? It was just another run-of-the-mill murder. Some bloke had been at the wrong place at the wrong time, simple enough.

"Who's that?" John asked, peering over Sherlock's shoulder in an attempt to read the text.

"The Doctor. He seems to think I'll need help." Sherlock snorted. "Can't see why; this one's too easy."

"I'm afraid it's not," came a voice from behind them. John wheeled around to some face to face with The Doctor. He looked a bit worse for wear, with one side of his face covered in grime and his clothes slightly scorched. John vaguely wondered why they hadn't heard the TARDIS's appearance, then remembered that Sherlock had fixed the brakes on their last adventure. Well, adventure in that they'd taken a trip to Mars, been kidnapped by aliens that had an uncanny ability to bound and gag human beings despite the fact that they didn't have arms, and subsequently rescued by The Doctor, whom the martians had neglected to take his screwdriver from. "At least, I don't believe so." The time lord strode over to where Sherlock was still standing, having not turned around. "The murderer's not from around here."

"Well, if you're so sure, go and have a look yourself," Sherlock taunted. "The body's through that door."

The Doctor gave a little _huff _of annoyance and pushed the door open with one hand. "Honestly, you need to _listen _to me some times. I don't see how-" The man broke off as he stared at the body in front of him.

Without warning, The Doctor strode over to the corpse, leaned down, and yanked the knife out of the dead man's chest. The "dead man" sat up instantly, coughing and spluttering, gasping for breath. John gave a small shriek and jumped about a half a foot into the air. Sherlock leaned forward, intrigued. The Doctor didn't seem surprised in the slightest. He put a hand on the not-dead man's shoulder and looked him in the eye.

"What are you doing here, Jack?"

**[A/N] Before you ask, NO. I am not continuing this. UNLESS: you can come up with a plot for it. I literally just thought this up, and have no plans for it, so... Yeah. Unless you can somehow tell me an interesting plot, no continues:(**

**But reviews would be appreciated :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**This chapter was written by a dear friend Batman- I mean esking on Fanfiction dot net. She is amazingly wonderful and you should check out her writing because it is amazingly wonderful as well. (I've actually read almost nothing of her writing; she writes mainly Inception fics. We did write one together, though. So, yes. Go visit Esking. She is a better writer than me, even if that doesn't mean much. Also, I don't think anything else will progress from this story. It will stay resolutely earth bound. This chapter is set in a cheese factory, because I asked for it to be. **

oOoOo

What Are You Doing Here: Chapter Two, or "How Jack Was Stabbed In The Chest", by Esking.

Captain Jack Harkness rolled as he landed, and was back on his feet an instant later, sprinting down the narrow aisle between two humming conveyer belts dotted with thick white cylinders. But he had no time to investigate. Behind him, he heard a _WHUMP_ as his pursuer kept off the catwalk and landed on the concrete floor. Thundering footsteps pounded after him.

Jack whipped around a corner, heading for a door marked "MAINTENANCE", but was jerked violently to a halt. Turning, he saw that the hem of his great coat was caught in the gears of the conveyer belt. Over the machinery, Jack could see the masked man now only 5 yards away. Jack swore and shrugged off his coat, and sprinted for the door. It was locked.

The masked man withdrew a gleaming knife from a sheath and swiped at Jack's throat. He ducked, scrambling sideways through a cramped corridor cluttered with all manner of hazardous devices and other assorted metal bits. Jack bobbed and wove, knocking over any obstacles he could, aiming for another door, this one standing partially ajar. He burst out of it, and found himself in a cobble stoned alley punctuated with several deep oily puddles. He splashed along, all too aware of the masked man banging out the door behind him.

The alley let out onto a busy London street. 21st century, first or second decade by the looks of it. That meant there was a fairly favorable chance of the Doctor turning up. At an intersection, Jack chanced a gance over his shoulder, and spotted the masked man shoving pedestrians roughly aside, now a block behind him.

Jack turned off the main road, weaving through the residential streets. His breaths were now coming in short painful gasps. Running with the Doctor had gotten him in the best shape he'd ever been, but he'd left the Doctor over nine months ago, and the relative complacency had obviously taken its toll. His lungs were burning, and for a brief moment, he envied the doctor's two functioning hearts.

A feral roar brought Jack back to his senses. He poured that strength he had left into his legs, ignoring the pain. _There! _He hung a left down a neat garden path and kicked in the house's front door. He was met with an immaculately white carpet staircase, and took the steps two at a time. On the second floor there were two doors. He took the one on the right and found himself in a neat office, furnished with an expensive mahogany desk, on top of which sat an open laptop with a glowing blue screen.

But Jack didn't care about that. He was focused on the window: a tiny circle set just beneath the ceiling. There was no way he was getting through that. He whirled around, heading for the door, and found himself face to face with the masked man, who had his knife held out before him.

"Hey, hey, hey," Jack said, backing up, holding out his empty hands. "I'm unarmed. You wouldn't murder a defenseless innocent, would you?"

"Innocent, hardly," the masked man growled as he advanced.

"Right, about that," Jack's back hit the wall beneath the window. He was trapped. "Look, I'm really sorry. I don't suppose you'd believe me if I said it was an accident."

"I didn't cross two galaxies for excuses." The masked man raised the knife.

"Yes!" cried Jack desperately. "Exactly! How'd you do that? Really, it's quite impressive, following someone through a time gap! We could work together, you and me. Technology like that, we'd be unstoppable." _Well, _he added silently, thinking of the Doctor, _almost unstoppable._

"I don't think so." In a movement too quick to follow, the masked man plunged the knife into Jack' chest. Jack's eye widened in shock, and he looked down as though not quite believing it. Slowly, he sank to his knees.

"Damn it," he managed in a choked voice. "This is a new shirt." He collapsed forward onto his face and remained still.

oOoOo

**WEH ESKING I AM SO JELLY OF YOUR WRITING SKILLS *gross sobbing***


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